


Christmas Traditions

by rareandviolentsnowflake



Category: Marvel
Genre: BuckyNat Secret Santa, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 01:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareandviolentsnowflake/pseuds/rareandviolentsnowflake
Summary: Merry Christmas to mustlovemustypages and a Happy New Year!No one understands why Christmas is so important to Bucky and Natasha. They leave the rest of the team to create their own little pocket of Christmas.I hope I did your prompt justice xxxx





	Christmas Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mustlovemustypages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustlovemustypages/gifts).



Christmas time was just around the corner. The team was deciding what they were going to do. Some decided to head home, like Clint, Scott and Peter. The rest of them, who didn’t have anywhere other than the Tower to retreat to for the holiday simply stayed there.  
Steve was trying to get them into the spirit of Christmas and Hanukah, decking the main areas with tinsel and convinced Thor to help him haul in the biggest tree anyone had ever seen. Being the planner and leader, he took it upon himself to set everyone up with tasks. It was odd to Natasha, having all of this for one day and the only consequence afterwards was she would have to put in some extra hours at the gym. Even after a few years of celebrating with the team, she liked to keep a little to herself. Clint was the only one who knew her well enough to keep out of her way when she retreated to her room with a box of baubles and tinsel and ornaments.  
Tony always found a reason to ask a question. “Hey! Leave some for this huge ass tree, Nat,” he half-yelled.  
She just kept walking as she replied, “I’ll bring back anything I don’t use, relax.”  
“I don’t get it,” Steve said as she disappeared into the elevator. “What does she do with it?”  
“Well, I think—and this is a truly wild guess—” Clint began as he pinned up the stockings, “She’s using them to decorate something.”  
Steve made a face at him. “I figured that part out. But why?”  
“Maybe it’s some weird Santa-fetish thing.”  
Everyone turned to Peter to gawk at his input. He returned their unwavering and shocked stare with a completely innocent look. “What? It be like that for some people.”  
“Not for Nat, I’m sure,” Clint reassured the room. “She just likes to do things by herself. Things she didn’t get to do in her childhood.”  
By now, they all knew enough about Natasha’s past to understand and kept the questions at that. Steve, still curious, passed a red and white bauble to Thor, who passed it to Peter.  
“Perhaps your soldier friend would like to join us,” Thor said.  
“Hm?” Steve replied. “Oh Bucky? I’m… Not really sure where he is, actually.”  
Sam stopped rapid-firing mini baubles at Wanda, who deflected them easily, to fill in the blanks. “I think he was in Kiev after Thanksgiving.”  
Steve made a face. “Kiev? What’s he doing there?”  
“Well, I didn’t say he was still there. But I’m pretty sure Director Hill and Fury had something to do with it.”  
“He’s on mission?!”  
Everyone stopped to observe Steve’s outcry. Sam flinched away slightly, worried Steve might do something, though he wasn’t sure what. Tony and Thor glanced over every now and again but continued to decorate and Clint huffed a sigh.  
“I mean, he’s better, right? Not messed up in the head being told to kill for the enemy anymore. So, Hill probably put him on an assignment to get him back into the swing of things.”  
Steve shook hs head. “No, no it’s not that. He—God—he told me he was still in Wakanda, recuperating.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Oh.”  
Clint looked away and kicked a box of ornaments over to Peter and Wanda to put up.  
Natasha appeared behind the elevator doors with a half empty box of Christmas décor in her hands. “He was recuperating. Now he’s adjusting.”  
Steve gave her a look that said, “I strongly disagree with this method”.  
“Then why didn’t he tell me he was fine?”  
“Because you would have told him to do things differently.” Wanda chimed in, dusting the glitter off her hands. “Maybe this is what works for him. He’s always been in the army, right?”  
“Since he was a kid, yeah.” Steve took a moment to reflect. His best friend never had a moment to be a kid. His father was in the army until he was killed in action. His father who taught him how to load several firearms and eight ways to disarm a full-grown male. When the draft letter came in Bucky’s mail, he wasn’t even slightly surprised. He just looked defeated, like the ghost of his father came to haunt him.  
“Then, maybe this is the way it has to be for him.”  
Steve let out a defeated sigh. “I just—I never know where he is or what he’s doing.”  
“He’s your friend Cap, not your kid,” Clint snorted.  
“Yeah, I know.” He sighed again. “Is he gonna be here at all?” He looked at Natasha questioningly.  
“Yeah. He’s coming to help me with… some stuff. I’ll keep you posted,” she told him, retreating to the kitchen for some snacks. “He’d better show up soon,” she muttered quietly to herself.

 

Bucky shifted his shoulder out of the way just as the bullet whizzed past, hitting the brick wall behind him. Rapid fire coming from 11 to 2 o’clock and he had barely any cover. How he managed to blow out the entire wall in front was beyond him. He ducked out of the way just in time of the 1 o’clock shooter’s reload. Sliding down under the spray of bullets he ended up rolling down a flight of stairs and tumbling down the next. Christmas was not looking great this year. Although, in compare to any other year in the last 80, this was slightly more exciting.  
Bucky brushed his hand past his pocket to check that his payload was secure before reaching for his last firearm with any decent ammunition left.  
Just three more. Three more.  
The motivational talk wasn’t helping as much as he would like in this situation. He was more upset at the fact that he hadn’t had any time to get Natasha a decent gift. Or Steve. Steve would get over it though. Natasha would be somewhat disgruntled until they had gone to bed and was given a good, long and—frankly—too loud gift that he hoped she wouldn’t find anywhere else.  
Bucky got to the end of the hallway to the door he came through to get this stupid thing for Hill. He knew opening it would welcome even more happy, Christmas-spirited projectiles, but it was the only way out of the building and back to Natasha’s cosy, warm and food-stuffed room at the tower. “Hill,” he said into his communicator safely tucked in his ear, “Extraction?”  
Maria answered Bucky immediately, “West, two blocks away. Payload?”  
“Secured—” Bang! Bang! Bang! “—coming in hot!” he yelled through, dodging a sleek, black SUV headed straight for him. That was too close. He was losing his touch.  
He sprinted down the streets, passing two blocks and flies down into the alley straight ahead. Russian curses and gunfire whizzes by and fades into the background. I am not dying before Christmas. Finally spotting the extraction, he skidded to a stop and climbed into the car waiting, that was surrounded by even more large black cars.  
“Happy to be back in the field?”  
His head swivelled to see Director Maria Hill, comfortably seated opposite him, hand out and waiting for the product of Bucky’s mission. He handed it to her without hesitation and slumped down deeper into his seat, relieved that it was over, and he could go back to the place that was the closest thing to home.

Bucky tapped the key card to the scanner and looked into the retinal scan to let himself into the building. As soon as he enters, he could see that the rest of the tower residents had taken to decorating the main areas. He walked past the common area, glancing to see the Christmas tree. Fuck me, that’s huge. He wondered who Steve talked into hauling that in.  
The place was completely decked from top to bottom with, just, Christmas. He found it kind of… relaxing. And also, slightly overboard. No doubt Natasha had already started decorating her rooms with whatever leftover cheery Christmas items she could find.  
He went up to find her kneeling in front of her coffee table, sorting through her stolen box of Christmas ornaments.  
He smiles warmly at the sight of her. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching to unbuckle his tactical gear.  
She barely tore her eyes away from her little project to greet him, “Hey, how’d it go?”  
“Hm, well, I made it back,” he pulled off the Henley he was wearing underneath only to find it splotched with his blood. “with barely a scratch,” he finished, glancing up to see if Natasha noticed the cuts and bullet grazes. She did. She glared at him with mild annoyance.  
“I told you, you need new gear,” she scolded.  
He groaned as quietly as he could as he tried to pull his pants down without disturbing the growing bruise on his thigh. “I got new gear. I just left it at S.H.I.E.L.D.”  
“Idiot.”  
“Hey!” He places a hand over his heart in mocking insult while walking over to where she had planted herself. He placed a small kiss on her head before she grabbed his head and tilted hers back to give him a proper kiss.  
She sighed. “You stink. Take a shower.”  
He chuckled lightly. “Yes ma’am. I’ll come help you after you can stand the stench of me.”

Bucky returned a little while later in fresh clothes, most of which was covered with the hideous Christmas sweater Natasha had picked out for him. He wriggled his arm at the tickle of the wool and polyester blend. “Do I really have to wear this?” He grumbled.  
Natasha glared at him pointing at her own sweater, which in Bucky’s opinion, was much nicer than his. “Yes.”  
Still grumbling, he sat down next to her, swiping some ornaments from the coffee table that Natasha had laid out for him and started on his little Christmas shrine. He furrowed his brow at the little crystal snowman in the palm of his hand. He would have loved to have this—any of this—during the Great Depression, when everything was pretty shit. So why wasn’t he enjoying it now? If he were to be completely honest with himself, he’d rather leave this little tradition of his and Natasha’s to the time when they needed to hide their time spent together. He did it for her, mostly. There was not much joy in the tiny pocket of Christmas he created when everyone else could throw a parade in the streets and have the time of their lives. His HYDRA days were further behind now, but this just makes it feel like yesterday.  
Natasha, obviously noticing his hesitation to finish his Christmas obligation, brought him out of his thoughts. “Hey,” she said softly.  
He looked at her with tired eyes. “Hey,” he said back, equally as soft, maybe a little gruff.  
“You in this century?” she gently took the cheery snowman from his hand.  
He sighed. “I just. Why do we still do this?”  
Her face contorted slightly in confusion. “Do you not want to do Christmas this year?”  
“No, I do. It’s just that we still do this.” He gestured to the cluster of Christmas at the base of Natasha’s fireplace. “Why do we still need to this? It feels like we’re still… back there.”  
She knew what he meant by there. He knew he didn’t really have to say it. Even though she had had more time to adjust away from that Russian clusterfuck, she never forgot. Like either of them would ever be able to.  
“Because it’s not about that for me anymore.” She moved to seat herself on his lap, wrapping him in warmth and love. “I do this because I always did it with you. It was always about you.”  
He let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. She continued to always know what to say. He held her gently, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. He could feel the steady beating of her heart and smell the sweet scent of her perfume. He could do this for her, still. He was in this century. He would do this with her. Every year.  
“I love you.” He said, smiling at her as he drew her in for a kiss.  
She smiled back at him. “Merry Christmas, моя любовь.”

**Author's Note:**

> Russian term: моя любовь means "my love"
> 
> Christmas playlist:  
> Spotify's Christmas Classics  
> and  
> Spotify's Christmas Peaceful Piano


End file.
